A Forbidden Love
by NeckbeardChronicle
Summary: I wrote this for my group of friends. It contains in-jokes and is generally awful and shouldn't be read by any of the living. 18 or whatever, it's yaoi. It's just brutal, brutal yaoi.


Victory, smiles, defeat, tears. Awards, fame, glory, shame, misery, disappointment. These are a daily occurrence for the champions and players of League of Legends. But what happens after you hit "Home"? What happens after you select "play again" and click a different champion to play? This might just answer that question for you. B R U V.

You know how in "Wreck It Ralph" there's like this videogame world where each character is connected and there's like a Hub world and shit and it's like they can interact and shit? If you don't it's pretty much like that. Uh fuck. On every Summoner's computer there exists a different set of champions identical to Riot's released and polished versions. The only difference being they can interact without the Summoner's knowledge after-hours and individually. Oh you know what's coming, don't even pretend you haven't thought of it yet. You know.

So like there's this bar shit I don't even know, where all the champs and minions hang out and totally don't kiss girls EVER because that's fucking gay. This fine evening, Gragas sits on a barstool and vaguely gestures to the back.

"THA GOOD STUFF, NONE A THAT PANSY SWILL GAY BOY!" he grunts in a clearly suffering-from-withdrawal rage.

Lee Sin puts on an immediate look of fear at Gragas's anger. In his mad dash to reach the barrels in the cellar, he manages to knock down literally everything in his path. Bottles crashing, mugs shattering, liquor spilt all over. Meanwhile all the residents of The Pushy Finger point and laugh at the poor, blind, mentally retarded laddie. Returning from the cellar weeping, he puts down Gragas's forklifted pallet of grog beside him. Too bad he's fucking blind and manages to crush Teemo under his wheels in the process. Tristana leaves weeping and the world rejoices as one.

The ring of the bar door chimes as Gragas dives beard-first into his first barrel of the night. Heimerdinger strolls in and sits next to Gragas a few stools over, hammering and wrenching at his turret, muttering to himself. Dinger eyes the bar around him before slinking off to the bathroom. After a few minutes, he returns- clearly unsatisfied and letting his turret knock into things as he walks with it.

By this time Gragas sits next to an empty pallet of empty barrels, clutching his gut and looking around the bar with bloodshot eyes and breath that could make even Twitch hurl. Seeing his fellow champion's intoxicated state, Dinger hops one seat over. And then another. And another.

"I say, would you fancy a... drinking contest, sir?" Gragas eyes the small yellow creature with a curious gaze before cracking a toothy grin. "AGAINST ME? HAH! LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!" The both of them beat Lee Sin into submission in order for him to serve them both tall mugs of beer. Realizing his very clear and imminent defeat at the hands of the tubby man, Dinger drills a hole in the floor, leading to the cellar. Popping the back of a turret open, he crams it into the small hole, making a shoddy kind of funnel.

"AIN'T YOU DRINKIN' IT?" He asks, as he downs another glass.

"But of course! I just erm, prefer to wipe the rim of my glass off first. You know how blind people are, they're almost as bad as black people. Won't clean anything!"

Gragas grunts in understanding as Dinger empties his mug slyly. This process continues about seven more times, at which point, Gragas hasn't opened his eyes in ten minutes; except to drink more beer.

"Good fellow, would you accompany me to the restroom? I feel the need for support, seeing as I have drunk far, far too much C2H6O! Could you possibly comply?"

Gragas essentially belches in agreement and stumbles after the tiny yellow figure, who walks without a limp or impediment. Little did the tubby man know what would come to fruition.

"Could you make sure I do not fall over? The amount of ethanol in my blood makes me lose any sense of balance as well as depth perception, not to mention-" Dinger gets cut off with a roaring, "DON'T GET PUSHY~!" And Gragas placing his hands on Dinger's shoulders. Giving a sly grin and unzipping himself, a whizzing sound pierces the air as well as the sound of a pin dropping to the tile floor. A blinding flash of light.

Gragas stands almost paralyzed except for slight jitters and tics in his body. "WHAT AVE YOU DONE?" he mumbles through twitching lips. Dinger wrings his tiny hands together and laughs menacingly. One might even say- in reverse to what a normal laugh might sound like. "Why, my good fellow, you've had a nasty run in with my CH2 Electron Storm Grenade! Paralyzes quite well I must say! Now I may enact my revenge upon you for my countless losses to you since our conception. This is very, very personal. "

Gragas's eyes contract and whiten with fear at the prospect of being stuck at his whim. Dinger produces a large turret, with an interesting contraption fixed where the cannon should be: A piston. Oh you know what's coming.

"You see here, I have modified my turret to attach itself to this apparatus here," he produces a ribbed, massive, ridiculous black dildo, almost the size of himself. He clicks it into place and pops out a remote from his pocket, showing a dial and on switch. "Using Hextech battery cells produced by yours truly, I have invented a new form of my turret! The H-28G PINNACLE TURRET! " The machine slowly creeps forward, gyrating all the while and sending out puffs of steam.

Gragas whimpers in terror as the machine claws off his stained pants, revealing his ass; covered in curly, dark, ginger locks. Dinger doesn't even bother to put some spit on the phallic device as it prods and plunges into Gragas's rear. With every push he lets out a painful grunt. Dinger begins laughing evilly and turns the dial all the way to the right at once.

The piston accelerates, burying itself to its full length. Almost immediately, Gragas's whimpers became screams, as goopy squirts fly out of his needlessly large doodle. Heaving and sighing as the piston slows to a stop, Gragas falls to his knees, and then to the floor- flat. Dinger's evil laughs of pleasure echo in the porcelain bathroom, accompanied by the sound of dripping semen off of walls. Grag attempts to stand again, but heard the all-too-familiar sound of a whir and a pin dropping.

Another blinding light fills the room. "This time, how do you like my CH3X LIGHTNING GRENADE! This version freezes you perfectly in the place you were when the grenade went off. So no moving now, not even a twitch, no sir! Every muscle securely locked in place. That is of course, including your ass." Gragas's whimpers fill the room again.

"However, in the interest of preserving these prototype batteries, I will be using myself to sodomize you. I hope you understand." Dinger unzips. "I borrowed one of Mundo's syringes with the promise of him borrowing you for himself next weekend." The size change was evident. "This actually makes me quite woozy, filling the thing with my blood and such."

Sliding easily into the fallen fat man, Dinger pumps with all of his might. The sound of two hams being slapped together resounds throughout the restroom. The sound reaches a fever pitch. "EUREKAA~!" Gragas vomits foamy white fluid all over the floor in front of him.

"I say...that was...invigorating!" Gragas remains inert. Laying on his massive backside, Dinger slowly hugs him. The door slowly opens and Yasuo steps in, unaware. Eyeing the situation on the floor and the state of the bathroom, he mutters a "WHAT THE FUCK" followed by some very extended and not-helping-at-all laughing that makes everyone uncomfortable. He promptly leaves, muttering something about some kind of road home and his fingers unhappily.


End file.
